to have driven from Boulogne. Don't tell me why you held your peace, because I know. And I think it was just sweet of you, darling, and, but for your husband's presence, I should kiss you by force."
The car fled on.
There was little traffic, but thrice we came upon cows and once upon a large flock of sheep. We could only pray that Jonah had endured the same trials.
As we slid through Langon, thirty miles distant from Bordeaux, I looked at my watch. Two minutes to four. Adèle noticed the movement and asked the time. When I told her, she frowned.
"Not good enough," she said simply.
The light was beginning to fail now, and I asked if she would have the lamps lit.
She shook her head.
"Not yet, Boy."
At last the road was presenting a better surface. As we flashed up a long incline, a glance at the speedometer showed me that we were doing fifty. As I looked again, the needle swung slowly to fifty-five. …
I began to peer into the distance for Jonah's dust.
With a low snarl we swooped into La Réole, whipped unhesitatingly to right and left, coughed at cross-streets, and then swept out of the town ere Berry had found its name in the Michelin Guide.
Again I asked my wife if she would have the headlights.
"Not yet, Boy."
"Shall I raise the wind screen?"
"Please."
Together Berry and I observed her wish, while with her own right hand she closed the window. The rush of the cool air was more than freshening, and I turned up her coat collar and fastened the heavy fur about her throat.
The car tore on.
Lights began to appear—one by one, stabbing the dusk with their beams, steady, conspicuous. One only, far in the distance, seemed ill-defined—a faint smudge against the twilight. Then it went out altogether.
"Jonah," said Adèle quietly.
She was right.
Within a minute we could see the smear again—more clearly. It was
Ping's tail-lamp.
I began to tremble with excitement. Beside me I could hear Berry breathing fast through his nose.
Half a dozen times we lost the light, only to pick it up again a moment later. Each time it was brighter than before. We were gaining rapidly. …
We could not have been more than a furlong behind, when the sudden appearance of a cluster of bright pin-pricks immediately ahead showed that we were approaching Marmande.
Instantly Ping's tail-light began to grow bigger. Jonah was slowing up for the town. In a moment we should be in a position to pass. …
In silence Berry and I clasped one another. Somewhere between us Nobby began to pant.
As we entered Marmande, there were not thirty paces between the two cars. And my unsuspecting cousin was going dead slow. A twitch of the wheel, and we should leave him standing. …
Then, without any warning, Adèle slowed up and fell in behind Ping.
I could have screamed to her to go by.
Deliberately she was throwing away the chance of a lifetime.
Desperately I laid my hand on her arm.
"Adèle!" I cried hoarsely. "My darling, aren't you——"
By way of answer, she gave a little crow of rejoicing and turned sharp round to the right.
Jonah had passed straight on.
As Pong leaped forward, the scales fell from my eyes.
Adèle was for the side-streets. If she could only rejoin the main road at a point ahead of Jonah, the latter would never know that we had passed him. If …
I began to hope very much that my wife knew the plan of Marmande rather better than I.
Through the dusk I could see that the street we were using ran on to a bridge. It was there, I supposed, that we should turn to the left. …
To my horror, Adèle thrust on to the bridge at an increased pace.
"A-aren't you going to turn?" I stammered. "I mean, we'll never——"
"I said the road was tricky," said Adèle, "but I hardly dared to hope they'd make such a bad mistake." We sailed off the bridge and on to a beautiful road. "Ah, this is more like it. I don't know where Jonah's going, but this is the way to Pau. … And now I think it'll be safe to have the lights on. You might look behind first to see if they're coming. You see, if they'd seen us go by, the game would have been up. As it is … "
* * * * *
At half-past seven that evening we drove into Pau.
Arrived at our villa, we put the car away and hurried indoors.
It was almost eight o'clock when Ping discharged his passengers upon the front steps.
In silence and from the landing we watched them enter the hall.
When they were all inside, I released Nobby.
CHAPTER III
HOW A GOLDEN CALF WAS SET UP, AND NOBBY SHOWED HIMSELF A TRUE PROPHET
Five fat weeks had rolled by since Adèle had eased Jonah of sixty pounds, and the Antoinette ring we had given her to commemorate the feat was now for the first time in danger of suffering an eclipse. In a word, a new star had arisen.
"I dreamed about it," said Daphne. "I knew I should."
I knitted my brows.
"I wish," said I, "I could share your enthusiasm."
"Ah, but you haven't seen it."
"I know, but I don't even want to. If you'd come back raving about a piece of furniture or a jewel or a picture, I should have been interested. But a shawl … A shawl leaves me cold."
"I agree," said Jonah. "I've learned to appear attentive to the description of a frock. I keep a special indulgent smile for the incoherence inspired by a hat. But when you pipe to me the praises of a shawl—well, I'm unable to dance."
"Wait till you see it," said Adèle. "Besides, there were some lovely rugs."
"That's better," said I. "I like a good rug."
"Well, these were glorious," said Jill. "They had the most lovely sheen. But, of course, the shawl … "
"If anyone," said Jonah, "says that ugly word again, I shall scream."
It was half-past nine of a very beautiful morning, and we were breakfasting.
The last two days had been wet. In the night, however, the clouds had disappeared, leaving the great sky flawless, an atmosphere so rare as tempted shy Distance to approach, and the mountains in all the powdered glory of their maiden snow.
Seventy miles of magic—that is what Pau stares at. For the Pyrenees, viewed from this royal box, are purely magical. They do not rise so high—eleven thousand feet, as mountains go, is nothing wonderful. There is no might nor majesty about them—distant some thirty odd miles. They are just an exquisite wall, well and truly laid, and carved with that careless cunning of the great Artificer into the likeness of some screen in Heaven.
Where, then, is the magic? Listen. These mountains are never the same. To-day they are very nigh; to-morrow they will stand farther than you have ever seen them. On